Command in Crisis

Posted on Sun Feb 8th, 2009 @ 5:57pm by Captain Elsie Halliwell

1,383 words; about a 7 minute read

Mission: Restricted Independent Operations
Location: Lane's Ready Room
Timeline: Current

Within moments of receiving the Commander's page, Rowena Arkham left the sickbay, hurrying toward the Ready Room. A dark line of sutures ran across the Executive Officer's jaw -- Dr. Halsey had barely finished stitching up the incision she'd had to make to reposition the artificial bones that held together the Lieutenant Commander's face when she'd leaped off the table; Arkham had had so many surgeries over the years, Halsey had found it easier to use medical hypnosis rather than put the old officer under for such a thing -- and even after her concentration was broken and her brain left the Class II Theta state that it had been in, Arkham barely felt the pain in her jaw.

Arriving in Lane's Ready Room, she saw a somewhat shaken Commander seated at his desk, cup of coffee in hand. Nearby, two security guards were unconscious, and a couple of medical techs were tending to them.

She was puzzled -- what the hell had happened here?

"Get them out of here!" Arkham roared, pain flashing across her jaw as she felt sutures rip. Catherine would never let her hear the end of this. "Today please, Ensign!"

After the medical techs managed to drag the security men out of the room, Arkham turned to the rattled CO--a bit of blood dripping from where her suture line had ripped--and said, "What's the situation, sir?"

Seeing the Commander's eyes drift up to the side of Arkham's face, she added, "Never mind me, I'm fine. Don't pretend like I've never been in pain before--believe me, compared to having your face blown off, this is a paper cut. What's the situation, Lane?"

“Very well, Commander,� he said, replacing the cup on the surface of the desk. It rattled slighted as the base of the mug made contact with the top with the adrenaline pumping through his veins. “With everything coming and going lately, I don’t suppose that you have had chance to review all of the new crew we have had reassigned. Does the Assistant Chief of Sec/Tac ring any bells?? You can’t miss him, really??�

Arkham nodded. Between the ritual armor and his massive size, it was impossible to miss the Yajuta warrior that had taken up residence aboard the Archimedes. At this, Arkham rasped, "I've seen him, sir, but I've had yet to speak to him. I'm rather hesitant to do so."

“He came up here to introduce himself. The two security officers that have just been removed were the result. He has been stripped of privileges and confined to quarters.�

He broke off a little and sighed heavily. “I’m all right. If a little shaken. He stood down of his own accord, however… I’m worried, Commander. We can’t have someone as volatile as the Yajuta onboard.�

Arkham nodded, trying to ignore the pain in her jaw and the stream of blood dripping down onto her uniform--she was really going to be hurting later, after Catherine removed and redid all the stitches. She could understand the Commander's worry. "I very well understand that sir. It's going to be a rough ride, trying to get him to submit to your leadership. The Yajuta demand proof that one is the "alpha" of a given organization. And even then, he won't respect me. Won't respect the established order. And what happens when the Chief of Security and Tactical arrives? Have we even considered that?"

“To be honest, Ms Arkham, I haven’t considered much when it comes to it. I was informed that the Yajuta had a similar demeanour to the Klingons… Here, let me get you a napkin.�

As the Trill broke off the conversation, he shakily rose to his feet. He rounded his desk and then strolled over to a silver box that was angled jauntily on the table by his rounded couch. Swiftly flicking up the lid, it glistened under the Ready Room lights to reveal a fresh supply of pressed, white napkins. Plucking one from the top of the pile, he handed it over to his First Officer.

“Lorelai. You don’t have a young daughter without copious amounts tissues and napkins dotted about the place.�

Arkham nodded, putting the napkin to the side of her ruined face. "Thank you, sir--I've very sorry. It's rather impolite of me to bleed on your carpet. As you were saying?"

Standing actually calmed the rattling of his legs, and the pain that caused his subtle limp eased away as he planted his feet more and more firmly beneath him.

“The thing is, Commander, Klingons we can handle. As aggressive as they are, they are, at least, predictable. And with the dealings the Federation has had with them over the years, their behaviour is easy to map. I would not have assigned him the commission had I known that his disregard to the chain of command would manifest so violently. And, with regard to the talk we had when I tasked you aboard the Arch, we both wanted an orderly and tight ship. I just don’t with him.�

Arkham smirked as much as she possibly could. "Well, sir, as the Executive Officer I could always try to talk to him. But if I were to do such a thing, I would demand to speak with him alone. And assuming that I manage to leave alive, I would need you to never ask me how I did it. I would just need you to trust that it was taken care of."

“I don’t know, Commander. I don’t think I much like the sound of that. Are we harping back to the tradition of flogging, already??�

He rubbed his chin hard, turned to face Arkham and considered his XO for a minute. “But something needs to be done. And short of throwing him overboard to become someone else’s problem - which I will not do - I don’t know what else to suggest.�

Sighing heavily and fixing his blue eyes upon hers, he changed his tact. “Knowing your background was what it was, I had to make significant concessions concerning your secretive past. And that is not a decision I regret. You’re aboard as my Executive Officer because you are of the finest officers of the Fleet.� He placed a comforting hand onto her solid shoulder. “However, there are just some things I am not willing to over look. As my Number One, and as the First Officer of the Archimedes, you have the authority and self-government to act as you see fit. You answer only to me. Whatever happens, I want a full report. Whether I chose to file it with Command or not, is another matter. And something I will agree at the time after having read it. But, I agree with you. Something needs to be done.�

"Flogging? Bah, sir--flogging is barbaric. And I'm in good shape for my age, but not that good," Arkham said, chuckling a little. She relished in this sort of thing -- playing the bad guy was something she'd always done incredibly well; it had come as a perk of having only half of her own face. "No sir. You never use force. You get in their head."

“Well, as I said, Commander… however you see fit. But do you suppose such a primitive and hostile creature would respond positively to ‘mind games??’ �

"Sir, he made it to Ensign -- which means there's something in there that is calculating and thinking and processing," Arkham said, smirking a little. "All I'm going to do is make sure that that part of him, that part that makes the decision to threaten a command officer -- will piss itself with fear every time it hears my voice."

Lane indulged in a little smirk of his own. He could not help be somewhat impressed with the darker side of his Number One. He could make sure people towed the line, so to speak, but he never delighted in the ritual of it. Something that Arkham surely did.

He simply nodded his agreement silently. “Dismissed, Commander. And… don’t forget to file that report after this matter is, well, dealt with.�



Commander Coltan Lane
Commanding Officer
USS Archimedes

AND

Lieutenant Commander Rowena Arkham
Executive Officer
USS Archimedes

 

RSS Feed